


Torture of body and soul

by TheRamblingsOfaMadWoman



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Hurt, Poor Aramis, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-11-09 02:48:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11095305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRamblingsOfaMadWoman/pseuds/TheRamblingsOfaMadWoman
Summary: This is set in, season 2 episode 10, Trial and Punishment. Rochefort takes his anger out on Aramis, performing torture on the musketeer for his own pleasure and amusement. Warning: torture, blood and violence





	1. Is there any hope of escape?

**Writer's Ramblings:**  This is set in, season 2 episode 10, Trial and Punishment. It is about Aramis being in jail and what I think should/did happen to him.

Rochefort is the one doing to torturing, because he is a good villain and I wanted to explore a rather dark side to him.

Enjoy!

 

 

Aramis pulled and pulled with all of his strength against the chains keeping him in the dank prison cell. The chains rattled but did not move, he tried again.

"Come on" he put his foot against the wall to brace himself, crunch. The sound resonated through the small room, there was a second of silence before a scream of pain.

"Aramis, Aramis!" a female voice shouted, in his dazed state of pain Aramis thought for a moment it was the queen but when he turned he saw it was Constance, pressed against the bars in her own cell, fear clear in her eyes.

"I am alright Constance." He lied, his whole right arm hurt like hell and throbbed in time with his heart "I think I broke something in my arm, probably just dislocated my shoulder. His tone was casual but judging by the look Constance was giving him he knew that she was well aware of the damage he had caused himself.

"Well stop being stupid and just sit down for a while" her tone was firm and strong. One of the things Aramis admired about the woman was her unfaltering ability to keep level headed in even the toughest of situations and unlike most women who spoke to him with a wistful tone Constance's was always more annoyed. He smiled at her with a smile that usually made women swoon with desire but Constance's reply was to raise her eyebrows and point at the floor, taking the hint that his charms were not going to work, a defeated Aramis slid down the wall stretching his tired legs in front of him.

"Happy now" he teased, her motherly and protective instinct made him feel safe while her control over himself and his fellow musketeers, especially D'Artagnan, was something that he had always found rather funny. Even Treville was not able to control D'Artagnan without her help.

"Aramis, we are going to get out of here" it wasn't a question but the tone of sadness and uncertainty in her voice made Aramis answer it anyway;

"I do not believe that your D'Artagnan will leave you in here any longer than necessary. Although I cannot see my rescue being as simple"

"What difference would there be in our rescues? We are both stuck in prison cells are we not." Constance turned to stare out of the window, as if she was too ashamed to stare at the metal bars that kept her in the cell.

"You are correct but you are scheduled to leave this place-"

"Yes leave this place to meet my death at the hands of the executioner, not much of an advantage is it!" Her panic was beginning to show, Aramis' heart went out to her, he was trained to deal with situations like this, she was not. Even though he knew the situation was not the best Aramis had something that Constance lacked. Blind faith in his friends. Yes she has seen them rescue people many times but this was different, they were in the palace surrounded by guards and at the mercy of Rochefort but still his faith never dwindled.

"Have you met D'Artagnan, Porthos and Athos, trust me when I say they cannot resist saving the damsel in distress. Especially when it is dangerous and risky, that is when Porthos thrives you see. Plus D'Artagnan's inability to think straight when it comes to you will mean that he is prepared to do anything whilst Athos' calculating mind will keep both of them safe and I doubt he will let them do anything stupid." He heard a sigh then shuffling, it seemed that his words had put her mind at rest. There was a sudden clash of metal as someone entered the prison, a guard walked straight to Constance's cell keys in hand.

"Time to meet your maker, my darling" The man opened the cell and went to grab her, but she was not going to let it be that easy, she punched him on the nose then in the groin leaving him curled up on the floor as she walked to the other guards. She held her hands in front of her. To the guards it seemed like surrender but Aramis knew that this strong headed woman wanted to go to her death on her own terms and was not going to be manhandled by men.

Aramis watched all of this still on the floor but when Constance was out of her cell his body started to react on instinct. He stood up suddenly and without thinking slammed his shoulder into the wall, hearing the pop of his bone being shoved back into place, he stretched the chains to the door of his cell.

"Constance. Stay strong and have faith." The eyes that met him were void of any fear or anger, they were full of pride.

"I will not Aramis, as long as you do not lose your faith, I will see you outside of these walls safe and sound." The guard, whom she attacked, returned to his feet and gripped Constance's arm out of fear that he would be embarrassed again. As she disappeared out of sight a small inkling of doubt entered his mind.

"Please be ready my friends" he said, even though there was no one to hear his prayer. Completely alone Aramis allowed the extent of the situation to fully hit him. Here he was imprisoned by a mad man, his secrets revealed to those he held closest. He could still remember the looks on their faces when they found out, the look of shame and disgust D'Artagnan had given him or even the red hot anger Porthos emanated. Athos had never been one to voice strong opinions but the look in his eyes was enough to make Aramis feel like he had let his friend down. It was a painful memory. Worse of all though was the idea that the queen and his son were exposed and in danger all because of his stupid act of love. He had always been a man to follow his heart. He did not possess the skill to listen to his head like Athos, but his heart had led him to this dire situation and if he was honest with himself, he wasn't even sure that he was going to get out of it.

 

 **Writer's ramblings:** So I am obsessed with The Musketeers, especially Aramis, although it doesn't seem like it considering I am torturing him... but anyway I loved the end of season 2 but Aramis being in jail was kinda overlooked I wanted to get more of a detailed account of his experience and hey that's what fanfiction is for.


	2. Left to the dogs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos! Thanks to Lady_Neve for their comment and jmp ask and you shall receive!

For what seemed like a long time Aramis could hear nothing. He would have hoped to hear Constance speak in defiance or at least to hear the gun shots of his friends by now but only an eerie silence surrounded him. Until it didn't. In a matter of seconds he lost count of how many shots echoed through the room, his whole body was flooded with relief. Realistically he knew that this was Constance's rescue and not his but still his heart was filled with false hope that he would see Porthos' cheeky grin outside his cell. When the sounds died out and he was left in silence again his heart ached.

"Thank you my friends, at least I know that my selfish act has not killed an innocent friend" It was an odd statement to say, but at the moment Aramis did feel responsible for Constance's imprisonment and close encounter with death. After all it was his act with the queen that started the chain of events leading to Constance and the doctor's imprisonment and soon after the doctor's unfortunate departure from this world. Ever since he heard the news Aramis prayed for the doctor's soul and he was thankful he did not have to do the same for Constance. There was a chorus of shouts and footsteps growing louder, Aramis recognised one of the voices to be Rochefort, anger swelled in his whole body. The slight pain in his arm forgotten, replaced only with a fire that warmed his soul.

"Musketeer" the man said as he appeared at the bars of the cell, the way he said musketeer with such foul disrespected made Aramis want to punch him there and then.

"Were they the sounds of your prisoner escaping?" His eyes gleamed with mischief, even though he was well aware that Rochefort held all the power he still liked the way that the other man's face contorted when he stated the obvious.

"Your friends may have rescued the woman but they appear to have left you to the dogs"

"Oh now Rochefort, comparing yourself to a dog is unflattering and insulting" Aramis replied, he waited a few seconds then with a smile said "to the dogs of course." A satisfying look of hate spread across his enemy's face.

"Open the door!" the guard did as he was commanded, Aramis did not move, if he moved back it would seem as though he was scared of the man in front of him but he was not. He saw Rochefort for what he was, a pathetic man that hurt the woman he loved and he was going to pay for his behaviour one way or another.

Rochefort entered the cell, making it seem suddenly smaller. The eye patch across his eye was meant to make him seem intimidating but for Aramis it just reminded him of how strong his queen was, a strength that he now tried to maintain himself. Rochefort pulled a knife from his belt it gleamed in the sunlight that was seeping through the small window.

"Are you going to kill me while I have no way of defending myself? You must truly fear me." Aramis' remark resulted in Rochefort snarling at him then the knife disappeared into Aramis' stomach. He bite his tongue to stop the yell that threatened to escape his lips, he would not let the man have the satisfaction.

"Believe me Aramis, I have much more planned for you than a simple death." The knife slowly twisted in his gut, Aramis' gloved hands pulling against the chains to clutch the knife, trying desperately to take it out with a final twist the knife was removed. The blade slick with blood. Aramis' legs threatened to give out beneath him but he used the last of his strength to stay standing, his hands pressed into the seeping wound, pain pumping through his veins.

"Prepare him, I will be back in a little while" Rochefort disappeared out of the cell as the guards entered, unchaining Aramis. For a moment the thought that he was being set free popped into his head but as a gloved hand grabbed his head and smashed it into the wall his last thought was only of pain and mild curiosity as to what would happen to him.

….

He was awoken again by the feeling of someone slapping him, if he had not known any better he would have guessed it was Porthos slapping him awake from a nightmare, but he knew that it was a nightmare he was living, not dreaming.

"Oh good you are awake, for a moment I thought my guard had ruined the fun." A voice drooled the noise making Aramis' ears hurt. He opened his eyes to see that he was still in his cell but this time his arms were chained above his head, his musketeer uniform gone, leaving him in his shirt and trousers. Rochefort picked up his hat and admired it, waiting for the musketeer to fully regain consciousness.

"If you like it that much you can keep it." Aramis said, his voice slightly weak as his ears rang at the sound of his own voice.

"I have no desire for such trash." Rochefort said dropping the hat to the floor and kicking it out of the way. Aramis noticed then that Rochefort was in his shirt and trousers too, his sleeves rolled up and a knife in hand. He could hear Porthos' remark about how something questionable might happen between the two men and despite himself Aramis let a smile spread across his face. Rochefort's fist collided with his cheek, causing the ringing to intensify and the smile to disappear. Before he had fully recovered Aramis felt something cold at his throat, pinching slightly, before leaving a trail of fire on his skin as the blade made its way across his neck. He winced and desperately tried not to let out grunts of pain.

"Very good musketeer. You may be stronger than I first anticipated. I was strong at the beginning of my torture as well I look forward to seeing when you will break and believe me it will be well before I gave up." Rochefort wiped the blade clean with a white handkerchief, his eyes glossed over as if he was not fully in the moment.

"I would not count on that Rochefort, I am stronger than you know and I have nothing to lose or gain." Aramis replied, he saw the barrel of the gun level with his shoulder before he heard the shot, but it still wasn't enough time to full prepare himself, however.

Writer's ramblings

So cliff hanger... What I really love about fanfiction is that you don't have to stick to the plot of the show... you know you can change a whole scene, add characters in or even take characters out... *evil laughter!*

I don't own anything


	3. The Devil was smirking

Chapter 3

Aramis had always been the one to shoot first. Very rarely had his enemy managed to shoot him. It was an unusual experience. The bullet ripped through layers of skin and nerves, tearing through his body until it finally came to rest in his bone. The excoriating pain made Aramis consider never using a gun again, although when he shot someone he usually killed them, they did not have to live through the pain.

To keep the pain within him he shut his eyes tight. He imagined opening them to see his friends, worried faces, a slight blur, he instantly felt a rush of joy. But when he did open his eyes Aramis was not met with the safety and comfort of friends but instead the harsh reality of being face to face with the devil himself.

The devil was smirking. Playing with the gun as if it was a toy and not something that could so easily take someone's life. Aramis noticed the sweat dripping down his torturer's face and his dilated pupils, he realised Rochefort was taking pleasure from inflicting such dire pain.

"You're enjoying this too much my friend" Aramis stated, deciding that he needed to try and understand the strange creature in front of him. The excitement seemed to disappear in an instant. The smirk wiped from his face replaced by a grimace.

"I am not your… friend!" the amount of hatred, anger, pain and resentment placed on one word sent a chill down Aramis' spin. "I DO NOT HAVE A NEED FOR FRIENDS!" Rochefort's shouting did not seem to be directed at his prisoner but instead himself, as if he was trying to justify his loneliness. Aramis felt pity creeping in through the pain. The Musketeer had friends that would lay down their lives for him, they were loyal to the bone but even more than that, he would do the same for them. Rochefort had power and fear. He controlled people and those he has no control over, he ruled through fear. What kind of relationship was that? Aramis could almost see the broken soul inside Rochefort begging to be fixed again.

The sound of a door opening alerted both Aramis and Rochefort, multiple footsteps echoed through the hallway coming towards the cell. A look of confusion glimmered in Rochefort's eyes, a swell of hope blossomed in Aramis' heart. It was his friends, but soon Rochefort covered his confusion with a mask of annoyance.

"Why are you interrupting me?" He said before the owners of the footsteps had presented themselves. The guards stopped outside the cell all looking at one another the fear clear in their mannerisms "Would one of you spit it out already!"

"You instructed us that if there was to be any trouble upstairs to retrieve you.." a guard said nervously positioning his shield between himself and Rochefort, who was still loosely holding the gun "Well sir there is trouble upstairs wi.."

"Do not discuss such matters in front of the prisoner you imbecile!" Rochefort was starting to turn red, the guards instinctively took a step back, he turned back to Aramis and whispered "I am not finished with you yet, musketeer." Aramis choose not to respond, he did not want to anger the crazed man further.

…...

There was no concept of time in the cell, Rochefort could have been gone for hours or only a matter of minutes but to Aramis it all felt the same, just time spent waiting for his rescuer. He heard shouting and stomping before he actually saw Rochefort but even just from the sound of his voice Aramis could tell that he was angry.

"Get the door open! NOW!" a flustered guard struggled with the keys that clanged and banged against the doors making even more noise.

"Ah Rochefort there was such a tranquil silence before you and your brutes disturbed it, would you mind leaving so that the silence can return" Slam, a fist collided with his face with a sickening thud, blood pooled in Aramis' mouth, he'd bitten his cheek. He instinctively spat the blood out without thinking, he looked up at Rochefort, a small splatter of blood covered his cheek. Aramis prepared for another punch.

Punch after punch collided with Aramis' body, he focused his attention on not crying out or grunting in hopes that the brutal assault would end quicker if he did not seem to be fazed by it. Rochefort finally stopped punching, having let all of his anger. Aramis moved slightly and felt a burning sensation run through his right rib, it was at least bruised if not broken.

"Put the weapons down behind him" some of the guards stepped forward each carrying an assortment of objects wrapped in cloth, every weapon looked a more intimidating shape than the other, even through the cloth Aramis could recognise guns and swords as well as the small objects that he knew could inflict a substantial amount of pain.

The guards dispersed leaving Aramis and Rochefort alone. Rochefort seemed to be stuck in his own head, his unfocused eyes staring at the floor, his whole body fixed into a fighting stance. Aramis dared not interrupt the man for fear that only bad could come from it.

Snapping out of his dream like state Rochefort disappeared behind Aramis, who tried desperately to see what was happening behind him but the chains restricted his view, in the end he settled listening to what was happening.

At first he could not hear anything then there was a sound, a crack, something hitting the floor with great force. For a moment Aramis imagined it was his captor's head splitting open on the floor, he smiled at the image that danced across his mind until it was blurred and distorted. The pain. It seemed to come out of nowhere as if no one had moved, but something had moved there was the sound again, crack. But it did not crack against the floor, this time it cracked against his skin. Still in shock Aramis' brain could not make sense of the overwhelming pain he was experiencing until Rochefort appeared in front of him, a whip in his hand.

Even Aramis had to admit it was a beautiful weapon. The leather had small metal spikes scattered across each individual strand. Some of the strands had red dripping off of them.

"This is similar to one of the weapons I had to endure during my time in prison." Rochefort informed Aramis as he almost stroked the weapon, "It leaves pretty patterns on the skin, although you'll never see them for yourself, you'll know they are there and every time you take a woman to bed to may hesitate before you reveal them to her. It will be a hesitation that will affect you more than you know. The high and mighty, woman's man Aramis suddenly afraid to take a woman to bed."

"Well I will not go against your judgement Rochefort. I am a high and mighty, ladies' man after all." He took pleasure in seeing his enemy's smile turn into a snarl.

Rochefort disappeared again and Aramis pulled against the chains to brace himself. Crack. Despite himself the musketeer let out a gut wrenching scream, crack, crack, crack. The screams of a tortured soul could be heard throughout the prison, they continued for hours.

As Rochefort brought the whip down for a final time, Aramis did not have enough energy to release a scream. His lungs felt sore and his throat as if he had swallowed shards of glass. All he could do was whimper in pain and grip the chains tighter to keep himself somewhat in the standing position. He found it hurt less if his back was tense and straight although that may have simply been because his body had frozen into that position and his limbs refused to move.

"You broke quicker than I anticipated Aramis. Your queen would be disappointed"

"Do not mention her to me you bastard!" it was a legitimate threat but Aramis had no energy left to make it forceful, it might as well have been coming from a child it sounded so weak. Rochefort laughed and placed a hand on Aramis' wounded shoulder his whole body jerked to one side causing pain to flare up again with vengeance. Rochefort pressed his thumb into the bullet wound, watching as blood oozed out around his thumb and drip down to join the blood already drying on the floor.

"Now, now musketeer, mean words will not help your situation." Aramis made himself look at his torturer, he wanted Rochefort to see the fight still gleaming in his eyes, but Rochefort never looked at him. He only looked at the wounds or blood, as if he was ashamed to look at Aramis, but he guessed he must be mistaken for Rochefort was enjoying the torture too much to be ashamed of it.

Rochefort removed his thumb from the wound and walked out not giving the prisoner a second glance. The prisoner however watched his every move and waited until the sound of footsteps turned to silence before allowing himself to relax. His muscles revelled as he finally let the chains take his full weight.

His back was thumping as if the wounds had a life of their own and were sounding the drums of battle but Aramis knew that it was his heart echoing through his body trying desperately to get the blood, which remained in his body, to his organs. Darkness started to creep into his field of vision, he welcomed and embraced it like a dear friend.


	4. Endured and forgotten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter but the longest one :)

Writer's ramblings: So I have deviated majorly from the storyline in the show because I could not see Aramis having the strength to find and fight Rochefort, hope that's ok... Anyway I hope you like this chapter and that you are happy with his friend's reactions to his pain. Enjoy!

After a while Aramis was awoken to the sounds of fighting and the thumping of bodies hitting the ground. He thought for a moment that it was in his head, a mere echo of his dream. Then there was the more definite sound of keys being jangled and the groan of metal being moved. He kept his eyes closed, convincing himself that it was Rochefort entering his cell once again to inflict more pain. There were multiple footsteps and hushed tones. With Aramis' whole body screaming in pain he could not hear nor understand what the people were saying. He instead focused on staying conscious as this visit from Rochefort somehow felt different.

His whole body jerked backwards, causing him to shout and groan in pain. A hand had touched his neck. Convinced that the hand was going to try and strangle him, his body had reacted on instinct. There was a murmur of voices then a hand was placed under Aramis' chin gently lifting his head up. Aramis opened his eyes, his vision swam and blurred but he could have sworn that Athos' tired face was staring at him.

"Ara- ca- you hea- me?" The voice was broken and quiet but Aramis understood, he made himself nod slightly, though it hurt the wound on his neck. He made himself focus more on his friend. Suddenly he could feel hands working in the chains at his wrists, he felt relief flood through him.

"He is bleeding badly" a voice said it sounded worried and concerned, D'Artagnan, Aramis guessed.

"I am going to kill that bastard when I find him" that was definitely Porthos. A genuine smile creeped onto Aramis' lips, something which had not happened in a while.

"Aramis I need you to tell me if you can hear me" Athos was still standing in front of him, his face would seem blank and uninterested to anyone who did not know him, but Aramis recognised the worry in his eyes and the way that his brow furrowed in concern.

"I can hear you" Aramis was annoyed that he sounded so weak, his throat raspy and dry, but Athos seemed to relax slightly. He held a bottle to Aramis' lips, slowly tipping it, Aramis drank until the bottle was empty not realising how thirsty he had been.

"Are you strong enough for us to take these chains off you" Porthos asked from behind him somewhere.

"Yes but someone might need to catch me" Aramis said, sounding stronger already, he had said the words deliberately knowing that Porthos would respond with sarcasm, something which he had missed.

"Why you going to swoon at the mere sight of Athos" the pair laughed, the motion hurt but it was worth it. Athos nodded and Aramis felt the key slide into the lock holding his left wrist, he braced himself as much as possible and felt two sets of hands gently press against him to keep him upright. The chain came undone and Aramis whole body fell and swung to the right, luckily the other chain kept him falling to the floor. He instantly felt someone at his shoulder examining the bullet wound. Then the other chain was unlocked and Aramis relied wholly on his friends catching him. He was held up right by Athos as D'Artangan examined his back and Porthos his front. As Aramis watched Porthos take in the cut to his throat, the bullet wound and the black eye he received a little while ago, he could practically see the anger building up. When D'Artagnan appeared in front of him again he seemed filled with the same anger.

"The wounds on your back" D'Artagnan said, keeping an eye on Aramis' reaction "what made them?" Aramis did not want to go into detail of his torture, not because he was trying to be brave or heroic but because it would only make his friends more enraged. He knew from experience that if Porthos got too angry he would act stupidly, which might get him hurt or killed.

"A rather nasty weapon" was Aramis' reply and D'Artagnan seemed to take the hint and simply put Aramis' right arm over his shoulders, allowing him to slowly take his weight. Porthos on the other hand started pacing, the 3 musketeers shared a worried look.

"Porthos" Athos said his tone a warning, but it only seemed to anger Porthos more, with no viable victim to hit he punched the wall, hard enough to here bone crack. "Porthos do not injure yourself, we need you in order to get Aramis out of here. Now come over here and take his other arm" Athos had the ability to make orders in such a tone that they were hard to refuse. It only took a few seconds before Porthos was at Aramis' side, careful of the bullet wound, Porthos put Aramis arm around his shoulder.

Porthos took a moment to gently pat Aramis' chest, in a gesture he recognised as being an alternative to a hug, since a proper hug would cause his friend pain. Athos looked at Aramis for a brief moment, seeming to mentally note his appearance and condition of the wounds.

"I will lead, you three follow. If we are met by anyone then I will deal with them. Only if there are too many may you leave Aramis' side, is that understood" Porthos and D'Artagnan nodded in response to Athos. Aramis opened and closed his mouth a few times trying to form some sort of protest as to being mollycoddled but he knew that if his friends were not by his side he would not be able to stand let alone walk. In silence the musketeers made their way out of the cell and down the adjoining corridor, they kept a slow but steady pace. Aramis trying his best not to cry out in pain, worried that it would alert any lingering guards to their location. Instead he bite his lip focusing on that pain and not the shocks of pain going through his whole body with every step.

When they reached the end of the corridor Aramis looked mournfully up at the stairs looming in front of him, the shadows seemed to laugh at him. He felt rather than saw his friend's stiffen next to him at first he thought they were dreading the impending steps as much as he was but then he heard it too- footsteps. Guards had not been to see him before unless Rochefort accompanied them, he listened to the noise trying to determine if he could hear Rochefort's voice amongst racket.

Porthos and D'Artagnan started to pull him against the wall he tried to get his feet to cooperate but his legs collapsed from under him, his friends caught him easily and dragged him the rest of the way. They propped him against the wall in the sitting position, he only just managed to hold his head up. Suddenly being still made Aramis realise just how much damage had been done to his body, his heart beat seemed to pump the pain through his veins, despite his best efforts a cry of pain escaped his lips, when he breathed too deeply. He heard the footsteps pause, the guards had heard him.

Aramis watched his friends take out their weapons ready for a fight, there was a murmur of voices as the guards undoubtedly decided whether or not to investigate the noise. Aramis said a silent prayer and hoped. A few painful seconds passed, his prayer was not answered, the door was flung open and soon a cascade of guards ran down the stairs.

Athos grabbed the first unfortunate soul who dared to get too close to Aramis. Aramis watched as Athos thrust his sword through the guard's chest twisting it until the guards eyes glazed over, not even taking a breath Athos turned and plunged his sword into the shoulder of another man. Aramis had seen Athos fight many a time usually he was calculated and tried to kill quickly. Always trying to kill a man in one go to avoid having to cause unnecessary pain. But when he was angry, like he was now, his fighting style was more erratic.

Aramis then focused his attention on Porthos, his grunts signified when he had defeated someone and his pure animal rage had made it very easy for him. Aramis noticed how Porthos kept his back to Aramis not allowing anyone near to him. A shout from D'Artagnan drew Aramis attention. The youngest musketeer was skilled with a blade and was currently pinned to the ground, Aramis instinctively moved to help even though he could barely breathe let alone walk. But D'Artagnan was in no need of assistance, he got his feet under his attacker and kicked him off, then he delivered the final blow. Aramis felt a swell of pride for the young man, he was well trained and used it to his advantage.

Before long all of the guards were lying dead amongst the 3 men, they stood breathing heavily wiping blood from their swords and sweat from their brows. Athos walked over to Aramis his eyes searching for injuries.

"I am unharmed my friend" Aramis said, Athos looked up his eyebrow quirked, Aramis let out a chuckle "well I was not hurt by any of these guards shall we say" Porthos joined Athos at his side, while D'Artagnan made a path through the bodies.

"D'Artagnan go ahead and see if there are any more guards" D'Artagnan reacted instantly to Athos' order, unsheathing his sword again, ready for anything. Aramis allowed his friends to pull him up, Porthos again taking his injured shoulder, leading him to the stairs.

"We will take this slowly" Porthos said as a matter of a fact. Aramis looked down and drew strength from the people either side of him, he took the first few steps well, managing to keep himself upright but only halfway up he started to falter. Relying more on his friend's to drag him up the steps than actually taking them by himself. By the time they made it to the stop of the stairs Aramis was sweating and breathing heavily. He looked up only to close his eyes again, his vision swimming.

"He looks like he might pass out" D'Artagnan commented as he made his way towards them, Athos gave him a look which he missed, "or like he might drop dead." The thump Porthos gave him he could not miss, D'Artagnan looked like a kicked puppy.

"It is alright my friend, I feel as if I am on death's door" Aramis replied, the pain making his tongue loose.

"Stop talking like that, despite your best efforts to give up, we are not going to let you go that easily" Porthos said, checking his friend over again, noting the blood soaking his clothes. Together the 4 of them made their way down the corridor, a few bodies were scattered on the floor but D'Artagnan made a path between them. Something which Athos and Porthos were grateful for as Aramis' legs started to give out and they had to start dragging him.

Aramis was trying his hardest to stay awake, his shoulder was weeping blood but had finally gone numb from the pain or he had just gotten used to it. The wounds on his back, however, he could never get used to. Every step sent shock waves through his spine even when he was being dragged pain thrummed through his veins.

There was a sound of footsteps, the musketeers reacted quickly to hide themselves in an alcove in the wall. Aramis lent against his friends, he could not help the occasional gasp or groan of pain but when Porthos readjusted his grip and jarred his injured shoulder, Athos was forced to put his hand over his friend's mouth, gagging him. D'Artagnan stood in front of the other 3 sword ready. The footsteps did not pause as they continued down the hall, they stayed still and prayed. A voice that was easily recognised by all the musketeers rang out, it sent a chill down Aramis spine he hated how he recoiled into himself.

"Guards! All of you need to go stand guard outside the queen's chambers, she may try to escape, if she does use force. Hold her down if you have to, just keep her in that room!" the footsteps then quickly retreated. Athos removed his hand, giving Aramis a sympathetic look, he also took the opportunity to look at the wound.

"We need to get that dressed or you'll bleed out" Athos determined, they leant Aramis against the wall despite his efforts to stand on his own two feet. Porthos took off his head scarf and gently pressed it against the wound, Aramis whimpered as Athos wrapped the fabric around his shoulder, tying the knot gently.

"We should continue" Porthos said, looking down the hall, D'Artagnan took over from Porthos and carefully checked Aramis' back, his shirt was red and stuck to his back. The young musketeer thought it best not to disturb the wounds any further. The 4 of them continued down the hall, the short rest had allowed Aramis to walk more steadily, meaning that they made much faster progress.

After a few twists and turns the large oak doors leading to the outside were visible, all of them could have cried in relief. When they reached the doors Porthos gave them a hefty shove, the sunlight blinded Aramis for a moment he had not seen sunlight in so long. His friends lead him to the safety of their horses, the wounded musketeer had never been so grateful to see the magnificent beasts as he did then. It was decided that Aramis would ride with Porthos, it was an almost comical scene with Aramis in the front and Porthos behind him, his sturdy arms around his injured friend.

It was probably the slowest and safest ride Porthos had ever taken he would usually ride faster than the others if he could taking short cuts through the forest to scout ahead or just for the fun of it. But with his friend he tried to consider the road and how it would affect them.

Aramis tried desperately to stay awake, worrying that if he slept he would wake up back in his cell. He felt Porthos' eyes boring into the back of his head as his head drooped and he snapped it back up, willing his eyes to stay open.

"You can rest my friend, we are not far away now, I will carry you into the garrison if I have to" Porthos' words provided some comfort to his friend, enough for him to finally give in and rest.

Aramis was woken when he slid to one side, he thought he was falling an instinctively thrust his arms out to stop his fall. A surprised sound followed and laughter, slowly he opened his eyes to see Treville holding his jaw, as if he had just been punched.

"What happened?" Aramis asked his voice slightly weak from not talking for a while, it took a moment to get an answer, as his friends were still laughing.

"You just punched him in the face!" Porthos said breathlessly in between chuckles that made his stomach bounce up and down. Aramis could not help the smile that spread across his face.

"I am glad that you all find this so funny" Treville said in an annoyed tone though the smirk gave him away. He then took Aramis' arm while D'Artagnan grabbed the other, to help Aramis lifted his leg over the horse so he was sat on it sideways. He looked down at the ground, a jump that was normally second nature to him seemed very intimidating, but with a lot of hands holding and helping him he made it down.

"Come and lie on this" Athos said, he had collected a stretcher and 4 other musketeers to hold it. It looked inviting but the thought of lying on his wounds made Aramis decline.

"You just want us to carry you" D'Artagnan teased as he took his shoulder, Treville rather gingerly took the other, noticing the bleeding wound but not commenting on it. Porthos and Athos went on ahead to prepare a room on the ground floor, in order to help Aramis avoid the stairs. Just being back in a familiar and safe place made Aramis feel marginally better. Seeing the horrified and sympathetic faces of his fellow musketeers, who had gathered around the outskirts of the garrison, made him feel uncomfortable. He did not believe he could look horrible enough to warrant such looks.

Athos opened the door to the room, the furniture had been moved to one side and the bed to the middle of the room. Aramis knew that meant they had intentions of fixing his wounds now and he knew denying that they needed attending to so quickly would be ignored. Being a good patient Aramis stripped his blood stained shirt and lay on his front allowing access to the wounds on his back. The gasps that followed made Aramis consider turning over but he knew that he could not manage it without assistance.

"It looks like strips of skin have been ripped off, they are not just flesh wounds" Athos stated he had taken on a logical stance instead of allowing himself to think too long on how much pain his friend must be in.

"How are you not screaming in pain?" D'Artagnan asked, knowing it was an odd question but it was bothering him.

"It is numb. I can feel the pain when I breathe deeply and when it is touched but apart from that I cannot feel anything" Aramis replied, it was a sort of truth, he just left out the part where his heart beating made his back ache more. Athos started to strip his armour and leant over his friend to examine the wounds closer. A bucket of water had already retrieved Porthos brought it over with a clean white cloth.

"I am going to have to clean these wounds Aramis" Porthos said as he rung the cloth out, Aramis just nodded, his whole body had stiffened in anticipation of the pain. Despite Porthos' gentleness he hissed in pain and his body jerked.

"D'Artagnan we need thread and needles, there should be some in Aramis' quarters" Treville ordered, he too had stripped his armour and was examining the extent of the injuries. Aramis could see the blood trickling down his body out of the corner of his eye and knew he should probably be in more pain than he was. He was thankful and did not question it too much.

"The bullet has not exited his body" Athos commented, we will have to pull it out. With that he went out of the room to presumably retrieve the necessary tools, Aramis hoped he would stay gone for a while he did not feel like having the bullet removed. D'Artagnan arrived with the needles and thread placing them in Treville's open hand.

"Now Aramis I have fixed many a wound but I will admit I am not as skilled as you are" Treville commented as he retrieved a stool from the collection of furniture and placed it next to Aramis. Porthos was done cleaning and started gently dabbing the wounds with a towel, soaking up the excess blood.

"That's very kind of you to say, but I trust you will make sure I am not left with uneven stiches" Aramis said, his words coming out slowly.

"I will try my very best but by the looks of the wounds, you are going to be left with scars" Treville's honesty was appreciated by the musketeer, he did not want to be lied to. Aramis just nodded, this was not new information for him, Rochefort had all but promised him scars. Porthos took some thread and another needle and started on the other side of Aramis' back. He could feel the sharp pain of the needle entering his skin then the tug as the skin was pulled together. A few times he whimpered but the lack of sleep meant that he was too tired to scream or cry. Athos returned as the last stitch was tied off. They all noticed how pale Aramis was and how it made the purple circles around his eyes more prominent.

"We need to turn him over" D'Artagnan said, who had been pacing around the room handing Porthos and Treville scissors or more thread when they asked for it as well as refreshing the water, in the bucket, when it turned red. Aramis could tell that he was itching to do something more productive and helpful. Gently 4 pairs of hands were placed on him and he was rolled onto his back. The wounds already felt better now that they were closed and no one was fiddling with them. D'Artagnan grabbed the cloth, from the clean bucket of water, and started to clean the wound on Aramis' neck.

"It does not seem too deep my friend and will not need stitches" Porthos commented as D'Artagnan finished cleaning the wound. Athos had crouched by his injured shoulder, carefully and slowly removing Porthos' now blood soaked head scarf. He had not made a sound, which made Aramis worry.

"How is my shoulder looking?" Aramis asked, he was not sure if he wanted to know but his curiosity had gotten the better of him.

"I will remove the bullet then we can dress it and let it heal on its own" Athos stood and collected the tools he had retrieved, Aramis did not watch as the tweezers disappeared into the wound but he cringed as he felt the cold metal making its way under his skin. Athos was squinting in concentration, in any other situation Aramis would have teased him for it but he did not feel up for comradery. He felt the tweezers pinch and move as they found what they were looking for, he cried out as the bullet was ripped through his muscle tissue. Treville placed a hand on his other shoulder to keep him down. What Treville did not understand is that Aramis felt as if he would never move again, his blood felt like concrete, which weighed him down to the bed and made any form of movement difficult.

Aramis had not realised Porthos had left the room until he returned holding a cup and a plate, which was stacked high with food. As if on cue Aramis' stomach growled which was followed by a ripple of laughter from the other musketeers. They waited until Athos had dressed and bandaged his shoulder before moving him again. D'Artagnan took his hand and elbow, on his injured arm, helping Aramis to slowly sit up, then Treville assisted in moving him back until he could lean against the pillow.

D'Artagnan disappeared, but Aramis barely noticed he was watching the food in Porthos' hand. He took the cup and drained it quickly the cool water soothing his throat. The plate of food he took a bit more slowly but even Porthos looked impressed by how much food he managed to cram into his mouth. D'Artagnan came back with a hoard of pillows and made Aramis stop eating long enough for him to place the pillows behind him. Aramis sunk into the mountain of pillows grateful to his friends for taking such good care of him.

"I think we should leave him to it" Treville said smiling at his friend, "glad to have you home Aramis" the musketeer nodded a thanks, his mouth too full of food to reply properly. Athos collected his tools and the bucket giving his friend a nod on his way out. Aramis did not thank his friend as he knew it would fall on deaf ears so he simply nodded back and made a mental note to thank his friend later when there were no people around.

"Thank you for rescuing me, I owe you my life" Aramis said looking at both his friends, he hoped his words conveyed just how grateful he was. Porthos smiled and gently hit his, uninjured, shoulder.

"I will just add it to the other times we have saved your ass" Porthos gave his friend a quick squeeze on his, uninjured shoulder, and left.

"I owe you a debt too Aramis, for making sure Constance did not lose hope in the cells. She told me how you talked to her and comforted her. I am also sorry that we could not get you out sooner, we would have tried if we had known what that monster was going to do to you" guilt was written all over D'Artagnan's face, it made him look younger and very vulnerable.

"No one can predict the future D'Artagnan and it is my fault that Constance was with me in the cells in the first place. She is lucky to have you as her protector" D'Artagnan accepted Aramis words, deciding against arguing about who was to blame for Constance's imprisonment, when he saw how difficult his friend was finding it to keep his eyes open. He took the plate from his lap and placed it on the stool just within reach.

"Are you comfortable?" D'Artagnan asked, Aramis nodded and settled down into the pillows. He accepted the blanket, the young musketeer lay over him and smiled at him as he left. With a full belly and silence it was not long before Aramis drifted into the land of sleep, where his thoughts were only filled with memories of his friends and the laughs they had.

Rochefort and the torture he had endured were forgotten. For now.


End file.
